Growing Up is a Heavy Leaf to Turn
by StressBakingElf
Summary: Waver Velvet immediately after Fate/Zero. A slice of life about literal found family (his grandparents/the Mackenzies), growing up, and the day to day life after massive life events and losing someone dear, of inheriting pieces of someone else and noticing how you change. Waver is tentatively starting to grow into Lord Em-Mellio II. Pre slash gen fic Iskander King of Conquerers


Waver blinked awake as he poured himself coffee, praying it would bolster his fragile constitution. He could sense the telltale movement in the small house as his 'grandparents' woke up for the day, soon to join him at the breakfast table. When he'd first planted himself in their home he'd been dancing on eggshells, irritated whenever he had contact with them and had to attempt keeping them under his spell.

Now, well. Count another one of the scant things he'd actually done during the Grail War as useless.

"Good morning Waver, dear. Your shift is at ten, right?"

Waver let his face do something other than scowl. These people who had welcomed him into their home and hearts- he was still rather aghast that he was reportedly kinder than their real grandchildren. How awful. "Yes, grandma. Opening and lunch rush- I'll be back in the late afternoon."

He stepped aside with his cup of coffee to let her pour a cup and sipped it by window. Morning daylight highlighted the cozy, perfectly domestic kitchen scene. This family he didn't deserve, these few months he was taking to gather his wits- it was like he was a normal nineteen year old. So normal he had a part time job and occasional grocery lists for the household. So normal he helped with laundry and while he certainly didn't clean the entire house, that would be far too much work, he existed harmoniously as though he really was for all the world was concerned, their beloved grandson Waver-chan.

Grandpa- Glen Mackenzie, shuffled downstairs and made a beeline for the coffee pot as well. "Ohayou, Waver." He poured himself coffee and gave Waver a friendly nod. "Picking up any Japanese at work yet?"

Waver shrugged. The undignified work he'd managed to land at didn't offer much room for language learning. The managers at Pizza-La had taken one look at the English foreigner and sorted him as unsuitable for interacting with customers.

A fair assessment, honestly.

"Speaking? Not so much. I have been studying the written language on my own time though, picking up pieces here and there." Waver wanted to break the habit he had of studying his every waking minute, but it would be a waste to not use his immersion in a foreign country to learn something. Besides, playing the Super Famicon barely qualified as studying. At least having a dictionary and grammar textbook out while he played games acted as enrichment, as proof he wasn't simply wasting his time.

Someday he might be able to be unproductive without guilt. A frightening thought.

"Well, Waver dear, humble jobs build character. I'm proud of you for working hard." Grandma, Martha Mackenzie, has always been too affectionate for what Waver deserved, kissing the top of his head before she pulled out eggs from the fridge and set up the toaster, making a quick breakfast for everyone. Waver's chest was still full of mixed emotions for not only what he wanted to dismiss as Canadian hospitality, but the real love Martha had for him. Everything she felt and said regarding him was true, yet not true at all.

Could people simply care for others without anything in return? Could a total stranger really have adopted him to spend her time worrying about her his school life abroad in England and asking after his 'friends' without a drop of blood in common? Despite Martha not fighting the hypnosis, it was clearly weak enough she could break it at any time if she wanted. Could he bring someone happiness simply by existing? Waver, without his abilities?

Not for the first time, his throat ached with something Iskander had unlocked within him. His own heart.

"Thank you, grandma. Here, I'll tend to the eggs for you." It was the least he could do, Waver supposed. It was a small act, but so were all his actions lately.

Especially at work.

The industrial plastic apron that would adequately cover the average adult scraped on the tile floor in front of Waver. The three compartment sink in front of him was filled with dishes and soapy water with several dish trays on the counter to load cleaned dishes into a washer for sanitation. Waver sighed, pulling on dishwashing gloves and grabbing the sink sprayer, ready for another shift of cycling pans, plates, silverware, and any other dishes from the dining room and kitchens through the sinks. It was true he wished he could magecraft it all away. It would be quite the ordeal to make some spell so oddly specific to remove all traces of debri according to health code yet leave the utensils and dishes themselves intact.

Perhaps simply using sanitizer perfectly diluted and dispensed by a machine with hot water was the most efficiently boring way to do his job.

Waver admittedly needed a step stool in order to reach certain shelves and hooks to put away his dishes. He scowled as he did so, climbing up to reach what most average men would have no issue reaching. Was there a way to gain those precious centimetres? It seemed like there must be a way, or he was perhaps the latest bloomer in the world.

"Hey, Velvet-san! Smoke break?" A coworker walked by Waver with a lighter out, barely discarding his own apron as he made his way out the employee entrance.

"I'm nineteen!"

"Ah, shame."

Waver turned back to his mountain of dishes with a huff and slammed the dishwasher down to wash the current tray of dishes with too much force, splashing excess water from the counter up to his face. For God's sake, he knew he looked twelve! Was it another way to make fun of him?

He took a deep breath.

A child thought like this.

Iskander's retainer didn't.

He tried to let the perceived slight go. It wasn't a slight at all, was it? What kind of person got ruffled feathers at an invitation for company?

"Smoke breaks, huh?" he muttered to himself. "Give it a year or two, I suppose." He was more excited by the word 'break' than 'smoke', but people changed.

Waver steadily worked through the dishes, spacing out into his own mind while his hands were kept repetitively busy. The spray of the mist from the high pressure water reminded Waver, perhaps foolishly, of the ocean. That dream Iskander had. He'd been told to chase that dream, to live.

Was this living?

Despite the oversized apron and gloves Waver was always soaked after his shifts in some place or other. He walked outside to the food and shopping center of Fuyuki with a box of pizza in his arms to share at home. It was mostly for the Mackenzie's- being such expatriates that they could enjoy things like mayonnaise, corn, asparagus, potatoes, crab- every fucking thing imaginable on pizza, Waver was adamant that the more he branched out from the type of teriyaki or generic stir fry he'd find in the average shop in England, the worse the cuisine got.

Was this living?

He made a slight detour to a food vendor with the idea that yakisoba smelled distinctively better than the fish and eel bento he'd suffered through before. He took the tray of hot food and his stomach growled at the sight of noodles. He ate it on the walk home with a sort of nonstop shoveling motion. Waver did enjoy it more than he anticipated, and took the time since finishing to observe the quaint street he was walking home on. It was a country like any other, no matter how foreign it was people living and working and existing in a quiet city- this one slowly but surely recovering from a recent disaster. The walk was pleasant, and Waver was already thinking of what his mundane plans were for that evening.

Was this living, Iskander? Waver glanced back down at the Pizza-La box. Was he following his command? How would he ever know? Is this what people outside the Clock Tower called life?

"Mayonnaise and corn- you know my favorite," said grandpa as Waver gave him the pizza box upon entering the house.

"It's a cooking abomination- and I'm British."

"Don't you want to broaden your horizons?"

His phrasing made Waver pause for a moment. Waver smiled to himself as he got himself a bottle of Ramune. "Alright. Next time I get pizza I will. I ate yakisoba already."

"Good. Join me on the roof later tonight if you like."

Waver nodded. It was an idyllic habit to have gotten into- stargazing on the roof with one of the few adults who had ever, despite being wronged by Waver, seemed to care for him. Without Iskander... how could he refuse?

He trotted upstairs to the bedroom that he used to share with Iskander. By now, it was only Waver's space. The futon had long been put away. The room had been cleaned to a habitable state and the books were all in order. He still couldn't understand how Iskander had loved poetry and epics so much- but he could never discard the souvenirs of their too short time together, the belongings to someone who lingered in Waver's soul.

He hurriedly wiped at his eyes. The greatest of men were in touch with themselves, he knew. By some logic that Waver the Clock Tower mage couldn't understand, crying at tragedy, feeling too much- in some ways these things gained more respect from Alexander the Great than anything else had. He longed to feel that comforting hand on his back again, or even Iskander picking him up by the shirt like a kitten and booming something with a laugh.

Waver sighed and sat down cross legged on the floor in front of the TV. A parting gift- that's what was the interest in games was that Iskander had left him. The influence, the idea to trying something Waver never had considered before. The remnants of someone he missed, mixing into his own soul until he himself was not just Waver, but a tiny bit of someone else. Someone he'd grown to love dearly.

He clicked the switch on the Super Famicon on and held the controller with focus, leaning forward as Fire Emblem: Mystery of the Emblem booted up onscreen, a few of his foreign language study books at his feet.

Honestly, there were definite benefits to living in Japan. Sometimes he caught himself wanting to stay forever. Waver figured video games might be what got him through life in mage society back home- if he stopped glancing to the side, expecting to see Iskander holding a controller next to him about to undoubtedly destroy Waver at whatever game they had. If Saber could ride a motorcycle and even enhance it with her Servant abilities, could Iskander have been exceptionally good at video games?

"Bastard," he mused aloud. "Iskander was setting me up- I should like to thank him someday." Waver had much to thank him for.

He turned his focus back to Fire Emblem, which was proving more difficult than Admiral's Grand Conquest, which he'd managed to beat. The t-shirt that had come with it had quickly become one of his most prized possessions. Waver was enjoying Fire Emblem, another game of tactics and military conquest, but-

"Son of a BITCH!" he swore, rebooting the Super Famicom with a practiced motion within seconds of losing a unit. "Damnit! Sixth fucking time this week! I swear to God- hhhhhhh stupid game!" He was absolutely riveted as it booted again.

Would Iskander have had the same reaction as Waver, or was this an outlet for his bratty side? Waver didn't know. Iskander might've laughed at the spectacle and said something either downright stupid or profound, maybe both.

He drank some of his Ramune- or tried to. Waver scowled at the marble in the bottle that instructed some of the liquid and muttered darkly at it. "It's just soda, why the fuck does it come with an obstacle..."

"Are ya winning, son?" Glen stood at his doorway with an amused expression, watching Waver fight and lose to the soda bottle with the game on behind him.

"I'll pretend the answer is yes." Waver stood and went to follow Glen to the roof. Martha intercepted him in the hallway for a hug.

"Goodnight, Waver dear. Make sure you get enough sleep!" She draped her green shawl around him with a fond look.

Waver should've minded being bossed around about a bedtime and sound life advice he absolutely didn't adhere to, but he only smiled. "I'm sure Fire Emblem will infuriate me to bed at a reasonable hour. Goodnight, grandma." Waver let go of her in their hug and she went to bed with a bright smile.

He climbed out of the skylight and onto the roof to sit beside Glen, with Martha's shawl draped over his shoulders. A thermos of hot chocolate was set up between them and Waver helped himself to a sip, gazing up at the sky next to his honorary grandfather.

"Next time you see Alexei-san, can you say hello to him for us?" asked Glen.

Waver nodded solemnly, holding the warm cup of cocoa in his hands.

'Is this life, Iskander? Am I allowed to take this deep breath for a few months and simply be, outside the Clock Tower, with this family I literally found by happenchance? Playing video games late at night and working a random part time job by day- does it compare to your conquest?' he thought.

Wavers only true goal was to see Iskander again to ask.

"I promise. I will."


End file.
